Loyalties
by AlyaBlack623
Summary: It had been over a year since Draco realized he had feelings for Hermione Granger; over a year since he realized that being with her would be impossible. They're 16 now, and Draco is more confused than ever. Can he figure out where his loyalties lie?
1. Chapter 1

After the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Draco had no doubt in his mind that Potter was the Chosen One, no matter what the _Daily Prophet_ blundered on about. And if Potter was the Chosen One, he knew the war would be soon upon them.

Draco used to find all of the nonsense about Potter quite annoying, until the Dark Lord returned- none of his classmates were aware of just how dangerous everything was becoming, how dangerous everything already was. In a way, he figured it was his duty to show them the reality of the war, to help them realize that no one can be trusted. In the end, it is always about survival.

Draco had been given a job to do this year. He spoke of it to no one, begged the assistance of no one. If he survived, it would be his own doing. He did not want to owe anyone anything, especially not his life. Not in times like these.

He knew that Potter was trying to find out what he was up to. Draco wondered if Hermione suspected him as well. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest when she caught his eye. He wondered if she remembered their fourth year, as he did.

It had been over a year since Draco realized he had feelings for Hermione Granger, over a year since he realized that being with her would be impossible. In their fourth year, they shared a kiss that Draco came to treasure as one of his most secret and cherished memories. His feelings for her hadn't wavered since that night on the Quidditch pitch, when Potter had announced, clasped to Cedric Diggory's body, that the Dark Lord had returned.

All of these things Draco pondered in Potions, ignoring Slughorn's obnoxious praise of Potter's lilac liquid and staring at the witch who grew steadily more frustrated with her own deep indigo gloop. He fought to keep his chuckle contained as she hastily added more ingredients.

For a moment he even wondered if he had made the right decision in his fourth year. After all, he had only been 14 when he decided to sacrifice her, to join the cause his father was so proud of him for following. But the Dark Lord was more terrible than Draco had ever imagined.

He sighed at his cyclic thought process. By leaving her, he was letting her live. Keeping her, if not safe, at least alive. And so he went back to normal. Or rather, as normal as he could pretend to be around Hermione, while the Dark Lord breathed ominously (and metaphorically) down his neck.

Draco thought back on the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. That fateful night had both given Draco more freedom than he'd ever had, and snatched it away tenfold. Suddenly, with his father gone, no one could scold him for fraternizing with the enemy. Then the Dark Lord sank his teeth into Draco, gave him the ultimate death-sentence: Kill Albus Dumbledore.


	2. Chapter 2

Ron had been rude to Hermione for the past two weeks for no reason at all. She was growing rather sick of it, seeing as she was going to ask him to the Christmas Party Slughorn was throwing, which she had thought was a nice gesture. But apparently, according to Ginny, Ron was jealous of the kiss she shared with Viktor Krum— back in the fourth year. _Honestly._

All of Hermione's suspicions at that point had been confirmed, that Ron did indeed fancy Hermione. So it was nothing less than a rude awakening to find him snogging the face off of Lavender Brown. It was a disgusting sight, really, so she decided to ditch the party; she needed to figure out her next move.

She was sitting in an empty classroom down the hall when a bird flew through the door, which was only slightly ajar. Hermione watched the small yellow bird flutter around the room with curiosity. _Where had it come from?_ Only to find another, identical bird follow suit. And then another. And another. Then the door opened completely, and in walked Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's heart stopped. They had not been alone together since, well, Voldemort had returned. She just stared at him as he closed the door.

"What are you doing?" they asked at the same time. Draco smiled sadly. The birds were now flying in a small circle above their heads. Hermione understood that Draco had conjured them for her.

"I heard that Weasel had his face glued to that bimbo, Lavender Brown," Draco said. Hermione expected he was trying to gauge her reaction.

"How did you..?"

"A little birdie told me," he said. "Do you fancy him?" He fought to keep his composure, mentally preparing himself for the answer he most feared.

"Who, Ron?" Hermione thought for a moment. Ron was always so stupid, so rude to her. Everything she did was wrong, unless she was doing his homework for him. She supposed she was more hurt that he wasn't trying to pursue her. The truth was that Draco still had her heart, but she couldn't very well say that, not when they hadn't spoken in so long. Hermione smiled stupidly at her predicament.

"I see," he said, reading the smile that played on her lips.

"No, Draco," Hermione implored, but it was too late. He turned on his heel and was out the door.

She decided it was better to let him go. They had agreed in their fourth year to feign hatred; they were always meant to be enemies. And yet, Hermione found herself crying silently in that deserted classroom. She conjured her own yellow birds to add to Draco's, and was still watching the perfect circle they formed together when Harry entered.

_Perfect,_ Hermione thought. He would write off her heartbreak as Ron's doing, and Hermione could continue being pathetic until her heart's content. She followed Harry's gaze to the ring of birds.

"Oh hello, Harry," she said. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah...they're — er — really good..." he said.

Hermione took a deep breath and mentally berated herself. It was now or never.

"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations," she said. Her brittle voice sickened her.

"Er...does he?" Harry replied. He was sweet like that sometimes.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," she said, imagining it was Draco snogging Lavender instead of Ron. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"

Hermione never got to finish her sentence, because Ron so rudely interrupted her conversation. She nearly groaned aloud as he pulled Lavender by the hand into the classroom, a goofy smile carved into his face. When he registered what was going on, he at least had the decency to stop.

"Oh," he said.

"Oops!" Lavender said, giggling like a school girl. She backed out of the room, leaving Hermione to stare daggers at the tall red-headed boy before her. He, apparently, decided she wasn't worth a second glance.

"Hi, Harry!" he said. "Wondered where you'd got to!"

This was simply too much for Hermione. She decided not to beat around the bush.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said. Her voice was quiet but icy. "she'll wonder where you've gone." Hermione made her way to the door of the classroom. When she reached the threshold, she remembered Draco's birds. It was all Ron's fault Draco had left her tonight.

"_Oppugno!_"she cried, pointing her wand at Ron. Hermione and Draco's birds both attacked his head, and Hermione disappeared, giving Lavender a look of disgust as she made her way back to the common room.


	3. Chapter 3

It was an understatement to say that Draco was surprised in the few remaining days before Slughorn's now infamous A-lister-only Christmas party, when he found Hermione running toward him on the seventh floor corridor. His initial reaction was panic. _Did she know?_

"MALFOY," she yelled. He was almost hurt that she had used his surname until he realized that she must not want people getting suspicious as to why they were on a first-name basis with one another. Instead of slowing down as she approached him, Hermione barreled into him, and said under her breath, "I need to speak with you...in private."

Draco's stomach dropped into his feet. She knew. He watched her walk quickly past the Room of Requirement three times, wondering what he was going to tell her, and almost settled on the truth, when she pulled open the door to reveal a broom closet. The two little girls who were actually Crabbe and Goyle in disguise sniggered as she pulled him inside by the arm.

"What is this about?" Draco asked her, trying not to sound too relieved.

"Well I didn't really expect it to turn into a broom cupboard, I'd have expected something a little roomier..." She seemed to be talking to herself rather than to him.

"Hermione," he said. She looked up at him. They could not have been more than three inches apart. Their eyes met and she visibly shuddered.

"Right," she said, wringing her hands. "Draco, I want you to come to Slughorn's party with me."

Draco was glad he hadn't been drinking pumpkin juice as he heard this, otherwise he would have choked on it in sheer surprise. His eyebrows shot up. In all honesty, he would love to be Hermione's date to _anything_, even a boring Christmas party. But didn't she remember the pact they had made? Didn't she remember their agreement?

_Aha,_ Draco thought. _I was forgetting the Weasel._ Draco's heart sank as he put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"I'm not going to help you make Weasley jealous," he said. "It's actually very cruel of you to ask me. I would have expected better from a Gryffindor." He reached for the door handle when Hermione pushed him roughly against the opposite wall.

"It's not like that," she said, and her eyes were alight with something Draco couldn't quite place...was it passion? Hermione seemed to realize she was pinning him against the wall, because she took a quick step back and began to wring her hands again, this time biting her lip as she did so.

"I never wanted you to get the wrong idea," she said, staring at the floor. "I don't like Ron. I never have."

Draco thought for a moment that he was dreaming, this was all too perfect. Hermione turned away from him, but he was too quick: he had seen the small tear slide down her cheek.

He took a step towards her, and gently wiped her tear away. With one hand on her waist, he guided her to face him again. He understood now. She hadn't forgotten him.

"Shhh," he said, and once more she looked up into his eyes, chocolate meeting slate gray.

Instinct took over from there.

Draco kissed her perfectly, one hand still on her waist, the other cupping the side of her face. Hermione leaned into him, perhaps because her legs had given out, and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was his turn to pin her to the wall.

His mouth moved to her neck, so smooth and delicious, he thought he'd never be satisfied. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she tilted her chin up to give him better access.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and slid her hands down his chest. They had wanted this for so long. Draco's hands wandered up and down her body, too impatient to stop in any one place for too long.

And then they stopped. They had both heard it, the crash of brass scales that one of the "little girls" outside the door had dropped.

Draco tensed, his arms still wrapped around Hermione. _It's too soon,_ he thought. He couldn't be away from her now. Not when he had waited for this for so long. Using his shoulders for support, Hermione let her legs fall back to the floor and smoothed out her skirt.

"No," he said. His voice sounded like a tired old man's voice. "Don't go," he said.

Hermione brought one graceful arm back up to his head, playing with his disheveled hair, and stood on her tip-toes to give him one last kiss that said everything he needed to know: _This is not over._

She turned to leave, then looked back to face him. She grabbed his left arm, rolled his sleeve up to his elbow, and delicately traced the Dark Mark that was branded there.

"Sometimes the barrier between good and evil becomes so thin that there is no distinction," she said. Then she left him.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was only slightly suspicious on the morning of Ron's birthday, seeing as neither he nor Harry had come down for breakfast. Her suspicion grew as Professor McGonagall approached her, and as soon as the woman opened her mouth to speak, it changed from suspicion into dead fear.

"Ms. Granger," she said, a look of concern sweeping Hermione's face, "Mr. Weasley is in the hospital wing. He seems to have consumed poisoned mead. Fortunately, Mr. Potter was able to deliver him an antidote immediately. However, Mr. Weasley is still in critical condition."

Hermione did not know what to say. She stood, feeling all the color drain from her face, nodded once to Professor McGonagall, and locked eyes with Draco from across the Hall. Then she ran.

She knew that Draco would find some way to casually follow her out of the Great Hall, just as she knew that Professor McGonagall would not follow her. It only took him a few minutes to find her, hiding in an enclave in the entrance hall.

"What happened?" he whispered, his silver eyes scanning her face.

"It's Ron," she said. "He was poisoned." Draco's face hardened, his eyes fixed on the wall just above Hermione's head. She didn't miss this sudden change. "What?" she said. Draco just looked at her. "Do you...do you know something about this?"

"No," he said quickly.

"Draco, it was poisoned mead," she said, observing his reaction. Draco's face hardened again, as if someone was punching him in the stomach and he was trying his hardest to keep the pain from showing on his face.

"It wasn't supposed to..." he said, his voice strangled.

"What happened?" Hermione asked. She held onto his forearms, imploring him. She could read the internal struggle on his face. He closed his eyes.

"That mead was not intended for him," he said slowly, keeping his eyes closed.

"What?" Hermione whispered.

"Hermione, you know that I'm not a good person,"

"Oh, stop," she said, biting back tears.

"It's true, you know it is. I'm not going to pretend that I'm doing the right thing. But the fact is that I'm bound to the Dark Lord. If I want to survive, that is, I need to be loyal to him, and do as he tells me."

"I don't understand why you're telling me this," Hermione said. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she leaned on the wall for support.

"He gave me a task, Hermione. I have a job to do, and if I don't do it, he's going to— well, he's going to kill me."

"No," she uttered, tears falling soundlessly down her cheeks. Draco leaned in close to her.

"I can't tell you what I must do, but I want you to know that if I'm successful, I'm not proud of it," he whispered. Hermione shivered.

"Don't," she said, slowly becoming less and less able to control her sobs. "Please, don't."

She pushed past him, making her way to the hospital wing.

Later that day, while everyone was discussing possible poisoners, Hermione spoke for the first time since Draco's confession. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself," she said of the mead.

Then Ron spoke for the first time since being poisoned. "Er-my-nee," he croaked. Hermione watched him, mind racing heart. As she tried to figure out Draco, she continued to try solving this new puzzle concerning the poison.

"I think there's a connection between the attacks," she told Fred.

"How d'you work that out?" he asked.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course, that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim," she finished.

And then it hit her. Draco was the attacker.

It was lucky that Madam Pomfrey ushered her and Harry out of the hospital wing a short time later, because Hermione became suddenly numb. _Draco is trying to kill someone. Draco almost killed Ron. Draco almost killed Katie. Draco is dangerous. _Then, _don't be silly, there's no definitive proof that Draco is behind it all._ The more she thought about it, the less sense it seemed to make.

_Katie got the necklace from the girl's bathroom in the Three Broomsticks, and Draco wasn't even in Hogsmeade that day._ Then, _the Three Broomsticks sells mead. I wonder where Slughorn bought the mead he gave to Ron._

Before she knew it, she and Harry were back in the common room, and Hermione said a quick good-night to dodge McLaggen, who was watching Harry with a hungry glint in his eye.

That night, as Hermione lay in bed, she decided forgive Ron for being a great prat to her before, and she decided that, as much as it may hurt, she couldn't allow herself to have feelings for Draco anymore.

_If only it was that easy._


End file.
